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Oh, God, what had just happened? Why? Why this man?
She had to go. Right now. The imperative of it overwhelmed her. The need for flight. Flight from something she could not cope with—just could not cope with.
‘I really have to go.’ She heard herself say the words. Heard them fall like stones. Tight, abrupt. Would he think she was lipping him again? She didn’t care? Couldn’t afford to care—just had to go, get out.
While she still could …
She dumped her napkin on the tabletop, jerking to her feet. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve got an early start tomorrow.’ She sounded disjointed, but she couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help anything right now.
He’d got to his feet as well. It registered dimly with her, and for a moment she panicked, thinking she wouldn’t be able to get away. Then she realised he was simply standing because she had. She forced herself to look at him. His face was shuttered again, his expression veiled. But she didn’t dare look at his eyes. Didn’t dare meet them … not again.
‘Thank you for dinner,’ she got out, still in that disjointed manner. ‘But I really do have to go.’
She stared around, trying to remember where the restaurant entrance was. A waiter came gliding over. Angelos Petrakos said something to him, and the man murmured acquiescently and glided off again.
Angelos turned back to Kat. ‘A taxi will take you home,’ he said.
‘I can’t afford—’ she began automatically, but he simply raised a hand.
‘The fare is taken care of,’ he replied.
‘Oh. Thanks. Um—’ She fell silent. She was desperate to ask—So, are you going to hire me? Am I going on the shoot?
But she didn’t dare. Didn’t dare do anything except pick up her evening purse from the tabletop and clutch it for dear life.
‘Goodnight, Kat,’ said Angelos Petrakos to her. His eyes were still veiled, still unreadable. Her veins were still in meltdown. She had to get out—now. Right now.
Angelos watched her go, nearly bumping into other tables in her haste. Almost, he went after her. Instead, he resumed his seat. Another waiter glided up, removing the empty plates, bringing him his entrée. He started to eat, quite mechanically. His mind only on one thing.
Kat Jones. And what to do about her.
He made his decision.
Kat sat, collapsed, in the back of the taxi. She should have luxuriated in the ease of the journey, but she was still in shock. More than sho
ck. Worse than shock. She was like one of those native peoples who suddenly got exposed to germs they had never had. Keeling over.
Oh, God, where did it come from? And why? Why him? The guy’s an arrogant bastard—rich and almighty, Mr Big and Powerful. And I don’t want, I don’t want, I don’t want to feel like this. I don’t!
But she did. That was the awful part of it. And it was the weirdest, shakiest feeling. She kept wanting to replay it in her head, make his face come up in front of her, see him there as if he was real. Over and over again.
No! What are you thinking of? Just stop it—stop it!
But it was like an electric switch that couldn’t be turned off again. It was on when she went to sleep, on when she woke up. On when she went to work.
Even her anxiety as to whether or not she had or hadn’t managed to get on the Monaco shoot couldn’t turn it off. Yet she knew, with her head, that the shoot was the only thing she must think about—worry about.
The moment she could she phoned the agency on her mobile, desperate for news, crossing every finger and toe as she asked the snooty cow Anita if they’d heard anything yet from the Petrakos Marine campaign managers. It took another two covert calls from the shoe shop’s storeroom before Anita’s condescension turned to ill-concealed chagrin—and sent elation soaring through Kat.
The ad agency had been in touch—she was on the shoot. And the fee that Anita grudgingly told her was … well, fantastic money! Loads more than she’d ever made before!
She punched the air, and for the rest of the morning floated off the ground.
This was it—her big break! It had to be! Her first real money! Serious stuff! And with this shoot in the bag she’d be up for more of the same—and better. She was on the way—she was really, really on the way! The pit she’d crawled out of was getting further and further away, and she was reaching for the sun …
Nothing could drag her down now. Nothing …
As for Mr Big, and the insane way she’d reacted to him—well, even if he showed up during the shoot she’d just stay clear of him, that was all. She’d have to. She damn well wasn’t about to—
